I Don't Know What You're Talking About
by Merfel
Summary: Harry Potter is attacked by dementors. Jessica Papadopoulus decides to walk home from the library alone. These two crash into each other at the worst moment possible, becoming friends. Watch as Jessica lies, snarks, and cheerfully elbows her way into the wizarding world, while Harry is dragged along for the ride. OOTP AU


"Umm. . ." Harry's head snapped around, and he froze at the sight of the teenage girl. Her eyes wide in disbelief, and her face pale with shock, there was no denying that she had seen the whole thing.

"Don't kill me! I won't tell anyone!" She yelped. Harry stared incredulously. "Why would I kill you?" She turned red. "Well, in the books, whenever someone finds out about magic and stuff, they get killed by the bad guy." "I'm not the bad guy!" Her eyes widened. "Seriously? I just thought since you were all pissed off and angry-looking. . . So is there a way to tell the difference? Like, maybe all good guys can only make light-colored magic?" He stared at her.

"No, that's not how it works-"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "Well, how do you know? It's not like you know everything. You're a teenager. Unless you're immortal. Are you?" She asked, stepping forward, a wicked glint in her eyes. Harry shuddered when the thin, snakelike visage of Voldemort slithered into his head.

"No, I definitely am not immortal. But I have magic and you don't" Harry sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face. "I'm not supposed to be telling you this. I am in so much trouble!" He moaned. The girl opened her mouth, then her head jerked up and she shrieked. "Oh my god, it's a bat!" The flying shadow swooped forward, revealing itself to be an owl. The owl landed on Harry's shoulders and stuck its leg out, holding a letter. He grabbed the letter and the owl took off as he opened it, ignoring the girl's questions.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle. The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._

_ As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twelfth of August. _

_Hoping you are well, _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Mafalda Hopkirk _

_Improper Use of Magic Office _

_Ministry of Magic_

Blood roared through his ears. Without his wand, he'd be powerless, a sitting duck for Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Helpless rage flooded him. Where were his friends, or Sirius, or even Dumbledore? Safe and sound, while he had been attacked. Crumpling the letter, his hands shaking, he looked up and threw himself backwards, falling on his back. The girl had inched closer as he had been reading and had yelped, hand thrown over her heart. "Lord Almighty, you scared me half to death!" She plopped down next to him.

"What does it mean when they say they'll destroy your wand?" Harry sat up, anger drained and replaced by exhaustion. "It means-" He cut himself off as another owl swooped into the tunnel and dropped a letter into Harry's lap. He unfurled the message, which was scribbled onto the paper in haste.

_Harry — _

_Dumbledore's just arrived at the Ministry and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT SURRENDER YOUR WAND. _

_Arthur Weasley_

"But you're not in their house. How can you stay there if you're not there?" Her voice shook him out of his frantic daze. He looked up at her. Hair tangled and messy, eyes wide and curiously worried. "I don't know, maybe I should just run for it." How was he supposed to keep his wand if the Ministry came to snap it? If he fought, he'd end up in Azkaban, which was a worse option that surrendering. "You could come to my house." Wait, what?

Harry's jaw nearly dropped. "You don't know me. Why would you let me stay in your house?" She shrugged and grinned widely. "Well, it's a lot better than sitting in a tunnel all night." He hesitated, mind racing. Mr. Weasley had told him to stay where he was, but that would mean staying where the Ministry could find him. But if he moved, he might miss Mr. Weasley or someone from the Order on their way here. But staying here. . .

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Harry looked around the girl's house curiously, trying to ignore the panic that kept him fidgeting restlessly. She tossed the keys on the table and shouted, "Mom! Dad! I'm home!" Harry froze. He hadn't even thought of her parents. . .<p>

"I should go, your parents are going to be happy-" She cut him off by grabbing his hand and dragging him forward, up the stairs. "They're not even home, so don't worry about it." He stepped hesitantly into her room, raising his eyebrow at the colors. Bright, crazy patterns covered the walls, along with hand-drawn figures and haphazardly placed posters. The room itself was a mess, clothes and book and strange pieces of metal scattered all over the floor.

"Want something to eat or drink? Or do you need to call someone, or y'know, do anything?" She said, flopping on to her bed and shoving her hair out of her face. He shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to say. They just stayed still, trapped in awkward silence. Finally she dragged herself out of the bed and pointed a finger in her face. Harry jerked back, eyes crossing slightly.

"Nu-uh. We are not doing the awkward thing. Tell me who you are Harry James Potter, and what is up with the crazy magic stuff, and why the horse-thing came out of your stick." She paused, making a face. "That came out a lot dirtier than I thought it would." Harry stared at her, jaw sagging slightly in shock. She crossed her arms and scowled, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Well, uh, you might not believe me. . ."


End file.
